Ephemeral
by HMS Siren
Summary: e·phem·er·al /əˈfem(ə)rəl/ Temporary, transient, fleeting. Her love and life came and went quicker than a candle wick burning the midnight oil. Her true beauty had been witnessed by few and her impression was ephemeral to those who merely spared a fleeting glance. Her legacy, however, was permanent beyond the years. [One-Shot]


**A/N:**

 **Hails: Okay, so, if none of you knew, there was an event/zine held on Tumblr and I got to submit my writing piece for it. I wasn't sure what to write but it finally came down to me as an interpretation of the Okumura twins' birth. There are spoilers in this story for Chapter 81+^ Enjoy. **

**I disregard any claims to the characters, setting, or plot of Blue Exorcist/青の祓魔師, which are a property of the mangaka Kazue Kato. I'm just borrowing them for a little non-profit fun.**

* * *

 **Ephemeral**

* * *

Like a burgeoning mountain, a skilled potter's hands embellished her creation on a resolute foundation. Smooth palms, like ivory and delicate, slender fingers seemingly unhardened despite her work. She continued her endeavor, molding the listless structure with an essence of ease and experience. She halted for a moment, only to wash the sweat from her forehead, then persevered in her uninterrupted oblivion. Her skin glowed, her eyes sparkling as she poured her feelings into this newest creation.

 _ **BLAM!**_

It was a sudden sound, coercing the lovely young woman out her insensible focus.

"Yuri!" A sonorous rich voice infused with rage accompanied the harsh banging of her workshop doors. With the grace of a porcelain ballerina, she stepped out to the counter. A dear friend of hers, adorned with a black scowl on his face and a white scarf swathed around his neck was seething in the doorway. He crushed a tobacco cigarette between his grit teeth. Gripped by the scruff of her clothes, a thrashing, feral child screeched and caterwauled pitifully.

The woman smiled despite the bitter, bleak storm that howled outside. The man slammed the doors behind him furiously.

"Blessed be, Shirō," Yuri said calmingly. "What brings you to my humble apothecary shop?"

"This wench!" Shirō gestured accusingly to the orphaned child stuck tight in his grasp.

"LET ME LOVE YOOOOOUUU!" The child screamed like a screech owl.

"I need you to bathe her," Shirō said in empty, spent defeat. "She smells."

"She seems to like you," Yuri teased good-naturedly. "Why can't you do it?"

"Lady, you have no idea," Shirō growled, his voice dropping a decibel or so to match Yuri's mellow voice. "Which is exactly why I won't bathe her."

Yuri sighed blissfully before holding her hands out to Shirō's slouched figure. The exorcist didn't hesitate to fling the wild girl into Yuri's experienced arms.

"NO! NO!" The girl wailed and writhed in Yuri's solid, unyielding hold. She refused to stop shrieking, her deep rooted limerence of Shirō doing everything to inform Yuri of the type of girl she was. "PUT ME BACK! NO!"

Yuri hummed serenely, bringing the girl's attention to the apothecary. "Hush, be still, little nymph."

Even though the child's heavy, labored breathing continued, she could feel herself gradually fixating to the woman. The child had no comprehension of Yuri's tact, but an unanticipated shot of gelid, biting trepidation rushed through her veins. Could it have been Hachirotaro's hypnotism? Is that why she felt the fight drain from her far too rapidly for her liking? She opened her mouth to interrogate the woman on her methods, but the tranquil expression on Shirō's face beckoned her to stay silent.

"Okay, I will bathe her," Yuri claimed with a soft smile. "You should relax, light a smoke, take a breather, and I will provide dinner."

"Yuri, you don't have to go that far," Shirō passively protested, though he knew it was all for naught. Yuri was a solicitous being with the beneficial ability to calm even a raging Yuki-Onna, which Shirō had been the very witness to when they had first met.

"Nonsense, have you met me?" Yuri asked in a pleased, taunting manner. "I know exactly what to make."

Yuri let the Halfling nestle into her shoulder comfortingly, who morosely stared as Yuri led her away from her love. The bath house was dim, only a flickering lighting allowing the room some visibility. The tile appeared painted in a dusky, aquarelle light whom someone had later carelessly spilled muddy water over.

"I apologize that it's so dark," Yuri said sweetly. "The gas lighting is a little broken in here, and I have yet to fix it."

The child spoke nothing of Yuri's comment, and although her bare feet ached when they met the chilled floor, she didn't attempt to escape. Somehow, she felt that Yuri would only call her back and she'd have no choice but to listen.

The rushing sound of running water charged into the bath house as the squeaking facet allowed the water to brim up to the precipice. Yuri ran something of an herbal, flowery mixture into the cascading water, bubbles forming in the liquid which morphed into a soothing, aquamarine color. The saccharine scent was carried with the steam as Yuri bathed the young girl. Yuri's fingers massaged the child's scalp, running through the cerise locks of hair, eliciting a pleased hum from her.

"Shirō never told me, and nor did I ask," Yuri spoke gingerly. "But what is your name?"

"I come from the Kirigakure clan." The girl answered almost inaudibly, a fragmented, broken sentence. "In Aomori."

"Okay, but did Shirō give you a name?"

The girl didn't answer for a bit, biting her plump lip until she drew blood. The wound healed almost instantly. "He calls me 'Shura.'"

"Shura?" Yuri repeated in a questioning timbre. "Like asura or carnage?"

"I don't know," Shura answered shamefacedly. "He just called me 'Shura' since I don't have one. Although… Hachiro always calls me 'Tatsuko.' But that was my mother's name, and her mother before her and her mother before her."

Yuri stopped Shura's voice with a frown. "Then Shura it is. It's such a lovely name. And your hair is so red and beautiful. It suits you."

Shura didn't say anything, but her cheeks did turn an unruly shade of red in embarrassment. Although Shura supposed she was flattered by the compliment.

Dinner had turned out amazingly, and for the first time since Shura came home with Shirō, she noticed that the usually stoic, merciless exorcist was… at peace. Was it this woman? Shura silently wondered as she nearly devoured the fish soup, then sloppily partook of the concoction Yuri had whipped up. The hot milk tasted ardently of ginger leaves and another sugary, spicy taste that left a favorable impression on Shura's taste buds.

When dinner was over, Yuri showed them to the door with a disposable umbrella. Fortunately, there was no thunder or lightning, but the thick scent of petrichor wafted about as the storm minimized to a light rain. Shirō bowed and gave thanks for Yuri's immense generosity, and that was the first time Shura Kirigakure had ever met Yuri Egin.

* * *

Over the years, Shirō had consistently visited Yuri, often times testing the witch's patience and her ability to play nanny. However, to the apothecary's delight, Shura had become a breath of fresh air. She had always loved children, she adored watching them play and twiddle innately without so much as a care for the angry, unmerciful world that awaited them in adulthood.

Shura, now eleven years old, had taken to spending most of her time in Yuri's workshop while Shirō was away on missions. As was, Shura decided to take part in amusing herself with one of Yuri's familiars. An Ashray Yuri had so cleverly named 'Ame.' The creature made of illumine water flew around Yuri's studio while Shura chased it with eager squeals and the witch sculpted a new artistry.

Shura looked to Yuri every once and awhile, unable to help but notice the growing belly bump on the woman. Although questionable at best, Shirō had taught Shura not to say anything that may not be any of her concern. So, the little hydra descendant wrote it off and decided not to the bother Yuri. However, as the days bled into weeks bled into months, the bump gradually came bigger and larger until Yuri could hardly walk anymore. It began to concern Shura as she gazed into the eyes of a statuette Yuri had erected. They were full of life, despite the apathetic posture. A talent Yuri, as an artist, had developed over the many years she had worked.

"Ms. Yuri," Shura started quietly. "Who's that?"

"Ah?" Yuri looked over to the statuette that stood approximately six feet tall. With a gentle smile, her green eyes gleaming contentedly. "That's who I imagine Satan would be."

"Satan?"

"The Pagan God of Demons," Yuri answered.

Shura's mouth opened in an O, but she said nothing more. She had heard that name being cursed from Shirō's lips as he mutely discussed an event known as the 'Blue Night' with his colleagues. She had no idea what the words 'Section 13,' 'cloning process,' or 'genetically modified' meant. So, she kept her mouth shut. Exactly the way Shirō wanted her to be. Though, Shura had become wary of other things through her ignorance of Shirō's secrecy, such as Yuri's stomach and sparkling, smiling eyes that never seemed to stop glowing.

Then one day, Yuri's bump vanished. Shura couldn't take her mind off of this, she just couldn't ignore why Yuri had suddenly changed like that. Was it a witch thing? Perhaps something only an apothecary could understand? The more Shura thought about it, the less she could bother to try and pretend it didn't exist. So instead, on a cold, snowy day in January, while Yuri was swaying back and forth in a rocking chair and humming appreciatively, Shura blurted out her question offhandedly.

"Hey, Ms. Yuri!" Shura exclaimed and pointed accusingly at the witch. "What happened to your stomach?"

"Shhh," Yuri hushed gently. "Please be quiet, little nymph."

Shura pouted and puffed up her cheeks. Her juvenile attitude could not be calmed by a simple command to be silent as if Yuri could reenact Shirō's demanding, cold demeanor.

"I asked you a question!" Shura shouted childishly. A misunderstanding was certain.

"Shura," Yuri scolded in a whisper. "I asked you to please be quiet. My babies are sleeping."

"Your babies?"

Yuri tilted her head, her green eyes widening in confusion.

"Yes, surely Shirō has told you about babies, correct?"

"Well, Hachiro has," Shura shrugged. "I'm required to give birth after falling in love with a man. Which, I wouldn't mind having Shirō's children."

"He's a little too old for you, don't you think?" Yuri questioned.

"No!" Shura said. "I think we'll make beautiful babies."

Yuri laughed, covering her mouth. That was when Shura noticed just how tired Yuri appeared. She had bags under her eyes, it had been weeks since she'd sculpted something new. Her skin far fairer than Shura had seen it, perhaps a little too ivory white. It almost seemed that Yuri had stopped taking care of herself at some point. The idea unnerved Shura.

"But, anyway, you have babies?"

"Yes, I do," Yuri answered with a smile. "Would you like to see them?"

"I can do that?" Shura's eyes sparkled as Yuri stood from her chair and scooped Shura up into her tender arms.

"Of course, little nymph."

Yuri carried Shura over to a door that Yuri had made off limits, silently opening it on its hinges. Shura peered inside the dark room as Yuri walked between a double set of cradles, clearly carved from the artist's talented hands. Yuri leaned her over the first crib, where an ethereal blue light emanated from a dozing infant. Flames that were warm and comforting. The enchanting fire enraptured Shura. She felt a peace about him as if he were angel contained in a small child.

"The one with the blue flames is Rin," Yuri said, then carried Shura away from the light to see the other child. He didn't glow, but outwardly he was reminiscent of Yuri with his silky-smooth skin and dotted body. "And the fair skinned one is Yukio. He has my moles." Yuri cooed.

Shura was in awe at the infants. But in some sense, she couldn't help but feel a bubbling envy grow in her stomach. She tried to shut that feeling out of her, hating how green it made her feel.

"They're beautiful," Shura said. She turned to Yuri with big, bright eyes. "Can I marry one of them?"

"Aren't you a little too old for them?" Yuri laughed.

"Not in a few years, no,"

"Maybe, little nymph," Yuri said. "Maybe."

* * *

Shura swung her legs back in forth as she sat on the edge of her bed. She was jittery and giddy, the immense joy she had felt after spending time with Yuri's twins, even if only for a few moments, had Shura bouncing up and down in eagerness. How couldn't she be so happy after bearing witness to some of the most beautiful children she had ever seen? The best part was, she wanted to share the happiness she had obtained by looking to these children. However, the only available man around was Shirō, but he was in his study, dealing with reports. The idea of bothering him made Shura swallow.

Shura flopped back on her bed in contemplation, biting her lip and letting her arms lie weakly at her side in supine position. Finally, the anxiety and guilt got to her. Shura couldn't just keep this to herself anymore, so she bounced off her mattress and dashed out into the hallway, taking the steps necessary to reach Shirō's study in his family sized apartment. She knocked on his door.

"Shirō!" She called, opening the door slightly.

"What have I told you about disturbing me while I'm working, Shura?" Shirō asked with a dark glare.

"To not to," Shura answered effortlessly. "But I have to talk to you! It's super important!"

"What could possibly be more important than my work right now?" Shirō questioned, hardly bothering to pay attention to the little hydra girl as he scribbled down his written testimonies on a recent immortal demon he had had been tasked to eliminate in his new occupation as Paladin of the Knights of the True Cross Order.

"It's about Yuri!" Shura exclaimed ecstatically. She threw her arms up and made jazz hands.

Shirō looked down at Shura with a newfound curiosity. He cocked an eyebrow, then leaned back and chewed on an unlit cigarette. "Yuri? What about Yuri?" He questioned.

"Did you know?!" Shura shouted, her heart rate rising with her level of ecstasy. Shirō was paying attention to her! "Yuri has babies!"

"Well, I noticed she was pregnant," Shirō admitted, stroking the stubble on his chin. "But I didn't realize she'd given birth already. Has it already been nine months?"

"Yep!" Shura said. "She has twins, and they're so cute! They're called Rin and Yukio! Although, Rin kind of glows, which is odd, he looks adorable anyway!"

"Wait, what do you mean he glows?"

"Well, what else would I mean?" Shura asked in a 'duh' manner. "I mean, he glows."

"Like, unnatural glowing?" Shirō took the cigarette from his mouth and laid it on his mahogany desk. His papers now forgotten and his interest entirely on what Shura was telling him. "Like, he's a demon?"

"I think," Shura pursed her lips. "I mean, he had a tail after all."

Shura began jumping around excitedly, Shirō's concern going unnoticed. "But Rin is amazing! He glows and it's pretty and blue, and warm- "

"Wait, what was that?" Shirō asked suddenly.

"He's warm?"

"No, before that."

"He's blue?" Shura tilted her head. "Why does that matter?"

Shirō's eyes widened, and Shura feared she had accidentally created an irreparable mistake. Was she not supposed to say anything about Rin being blue? Apprehension seized her by the throat, stilling her words immediately. She had feared greatly in that moment what may happen to Yuri now that she had told Shirō about the twins. The way Shirō was acting set her on edge, made her stomach churn in an ugly, cold feeling that forsook her body. The way he was staring off, not acknowledging anything else except his own thoughts.

"Uh, oh." Shura cowered and trembled. "Did I make you mad?"

Shirō snapped out of his daze. Once he comprehended Shura's inquiry, a smile broke out across his face.

"No, Shura, I'm not mad." Shirō slipped off his chair and kneeled down to meet Shura's eyes on her level. "In fact, you've made me _very_ happy. Can you show me these children? I would like to see them myself."

Shura gasped, covering mouth as she giggled and jumped around excitedly. She made Shirō happy! She was able to share her happiness with Shirō!

"Of course, Shirō! We can go to her place now! Come on, come on, let's go!"

* * *

Shura had not realized her mistake until it was far too late. As the child led Shirō through the nursery door of the twins, she quietly gazed at the glowing crib in frozen awe."Yuri doesn't like it when I'm in here without permission," Shura whispered. "But I'm sure she'll be okay with it since you're her friend."

Shirō didn't respond. He marched into the room, not bothering to be quiet with his heavy combat boots. He peered over into Yukio's crib, a moment later deciding that he wasn't of any concern. Shirō unholstered his gun, loading it with a silver bullet and making the firearm click. When he stared into Rin's crib, he breathed sharply and grit his teeth. Shura wasn't making a joke, this child… he really was wreathed in Satan's blue flames. He pointed the muzzle of the gun into the crib.

"I suppose the human twin is fine, but this one…"

"Shirō?" Shura's breath escaped her as he looked at him hopefully. "What are you doing? You're… you're acting like you're going to… you're not going to kill him, are you?"

"Be silent, Shura," Shirō demanded. "This'll be and quick and clean, and hopefully no scuffle.

"No!" Shura stepped forward as Shirō clicked the safety off and put his finger on the trigger.

 _ **Blam!**_

Another voice had matched Shura's as Shirō's bullet missed the crib and hit the ceiling instead. Yuri Egin, in all her glory, pinned Shirō the ground, growling like a protective mama bear.

"What do you think you're doing, Shirō?" She hissed.

The Paladin tossed Yuri off of him with ease. She hit the floor, both jumping to their feet as the children bawled with raspy voices.

"I should ask you the same thing, Yuri." Shirō grit his teeth. He scooped up his Benelli M3 with little effort. They faced each other, the air accompanied by infant screams and horror that rained down upon them. "I didn't think your pity stretched so far as to allow Satan into your body. Now you've bared his children?!"

"Maybe I have, and maybe I did make a mistake," Yuri admitted silently. She reached behind her, then pointed a semi-automatic pistol at Shirō as the duo faced off. "But they are not his children anymore, they are mine. I will protect them as a mother should."

"You should just let the little devil over there die," Shirō bayed threateningly. "He has no place here on Assiah, and if he stays he'll only suffer. Can't you see I'm doing this not for your own good, but for his? The Son of Satan cannot be allowed to walk this Earth!"

"That's selfish thinking, and you know it!" Yuri said furiously. "You say it's for the good of the world, well I say it's because you're still angry about last year! Just because Satan caused the Blue Night does not mean my children are dangerous like he is!"

As Yuri and Shirō battled it out, wrestling and attempting to disarm the other over the twins, Shura felt a dark, ugly feeling crash into her like a tsunami. ' _This is all my fault.'_ She thought. ' _I told Shirō about Rin and Yukio and now they're in danger because of me.'_ Through the inky guilt that roamed her soul, another gunshot could be heard resonating. She shook her head, forcing herself to shove down the fear.

"Shirō!" Shura exclaimed. "No! Don't kill them!"

"You stay out of it, Shura," Shirō snarled as he wrenched the pistol from Yuri's grip and hurled into the wall. "These children are dangerous; they can't be permitted to stay."

"Why!?"

"Not now, Shura!"

"WHY?!" Shura repeated herself as loudly as possible, fury forming a dark, spiritual aura around her. "Why do they have to die?!"

"They are Satan's children!" Shirō growled and flung Yuri off of him again. "Do you understand?! Did you not see the damage that monster caused? I told you to stay out of it! A child like you could never understand."

Shura flinched at the harshness of Shirō's words. She rallied up her courage, but each word had Shura's heart sinking deeper into her chest. Who was she kidding? Shirō was right. She may have been a child, but she understood the damage the God of Demons had inflicted upon the world. The newspapers in Shirō's study had attested to that. _Thousands Dead. No Cause Determined. Spontaneous Combustion. Possible Terrorist Attack?_ All the black and white ink, headers, the despair, and the destruction, that had been, is now and will be. Even then, she could never understand an adult's perspective. What she could understand was that the conflict before her was her fault.

"No! It's you who doesn't understand, Shirō!" Shura screamed, stomping her foot. Even then, she had no right to preach about predecessors. Her line of Tatsuko descendants made her exactly like her mother. "Just because their father is the God of Demons doesn't mean they'll turn out like him! I can't believe I didn't see how horrible you are! I HATE YOU!"

Shura wasn't sure if it was Shirō or Yuri who had called her name, but she didn't stop running as she dashed down the slippery steps that lead to Yuri's workshop. The snow blinded her vision, the wind howled and impaired her ability to move, and just for a second, Shura's life flashed before her eyes. Her rubber boots slipped on the wooden steps, throwing her forward.

The last thing Shura saw was the muddy ground near the rock that struck her head.

* * *

Shura lazed about at her desk. The eventful day had come to an end, as marked by the gleaming stars that were nailed to a velvet background that constructed the sky and the Cheshire Cat's smiling moon. As a twenty-six-year-old senior exorcist, Shura had been unquestionably loyal to the Vatican for over ten years now. She had effortlessly earned their trust and admiration, and with her Fang at her side, she could accomplish now what took decades of training for most other exorcists. Granted, she started late and had to work twice as hard to get to the top of the totem pole, and yet… she was always beneath the deserter.

Shirō Fujimoto.

Shura grit her teeth and slammed her balled fists down on the table. Such old memories of the man that had raised her, the man she had been infatuated with, didn't find any home in the confines of her mind. Yet it seemed that no matter how hard she tried, Shirō found a place in her softened heart, despite the battle scars and calloused fury.

Just today, the traitor halted her in the hallway and he pleaded with her to train the Okumura twins–Yuri Egin's twins. Shura's viridescent envy and garnet rage from her childhood returned in hot flashes. That man had left her at the doors of a convent, raised by humble, modest nuns, then went on to raise a couple of rejected beasts, one of which Shura had met. But that lifestyle refused to work for her, so she left and turned up at the entry to the Knights. She despised the people, like most, but who she hated above everyone else was Shirō.

Why? Why had Shirō tossed her into the trash bin? Was she not worthy of his love? Was she just some social reject; a copy of a copy of a woman that had only been loved by a serpent? Perhaps she'd never know, as she had no desire to discover the reason.

As the strongest exorcist, Shirō should be able to train his own children. But putting a demon-slaying blade in the hands of a child, an emotionally unstable teenager, was unspeakable and irrefutably dangerous. She dismissed Shirō's proposition, and she knew exactly why.

Rin Okumura was the Son of Satan. And Shirō had painstakingly spoken the truth about him. He was dangerous, volatile, and with his demonic blood, Shura couldn't allow him to live anymore. As her spy status within the Japan Branch was well known among the Vatican headquarters, she couldn't refrain from holding off this imperative information, no matter how enticing those blue flames had been, from the Order any longer.

Shura stood abruptly. In a few short strides, she reached the door. Grabbing the handle, she yanked the door open roughly, only to come face to face with none other than Mephisto Pheles: the Director of the Japan Branch.

"Hello, my dear," He purred.

"Mephisto." Shura sneered, coercing herself a step back as Mephisto went forward into the room. "What do you want?"

"Well, normally I'd play hard to get with key data," Mephisto grinned devilishly. "I figured today would be the day you'd snap after Shirō's little proposition, and unfortunately, I'd like to keep the secret of Rin Okumura from the higher ups for just a bit longer."

"So what will you do?" Shura snarled. For every step Mephisto took forward, Shura took a step back and came a smidge closer to drawing her Fang. "Incapacitate me? Excommunicate me from the Order? Or maybe you'd go so far as to commit murder."

"Oh, no, my dear," Mephisto hummed. He reached his faux leather glove up to his mouth, pulling it off with his sharpened teeth. A clawed, pale hand revealed itself and stretched out to Shura just as the ninja's palm flew up to retrieve her katana. "Murder is far too messy. But, if you have no memory of what it is you must report, well then, you can't make a report."

Mephisto's pointer finger reached Shura's forehead, causing the woman to let out a faint moan as she slumped back into her chair. Darkness pulled her into slumber as Mephisto strut from the room, waving his gloved hand. "Ciao, my dear!"

"Me… phis… to…" Shura ground out weakly. "You'll… pay… for this…"

* * *

Shura trudged along through the snow and frostbitten air. Now twenty-seven-years-old, she had been tasked with training Rin in the art of his flames.

For the life of her, after Mephisto's dirty little trick on her memory, Shura could not remember why Rin had been so prominent in her memories; what had been so special about him. Then he came crashing down in a blazing ball of blue fire, cornered by Amaimon and in the hands of the memory manipulating devil himself. Her memories came back to her in a flood of jealousy and grief, Shirō's death only making it tenfold more painful.

No, Shura didn't quite understand what was so special about Rin and Yukio Okumura—the twins that made Yuri Egin and Shirō Fujimoto throw their lives away in a despairing attempt to protect them. Not until she'd seen up close and personal just how meaningful they were, when Yukio had claimed rights to the knowledge of his past through petrifying means, when Rin had roared through the anguish of her Fang, swathed in blue fire.

 _"I'm gonna be the most powerful exorcist – the Paladin!"_

She had never laughed so hard in her life at such raw emotion that for a moment she thought it might be some kind of hoax. Even as the thought swirled in her head, making her shiver in anticipation, making her heart skip a beat. She couldn't help but skip a little as she trotted up the stairs to apothecary's shop. She pushed open the creaking door, the thick smell of dried herbs and blackberries strongly wafting into her face. With a deep breath, she entered in and stood within the dusty, abandoned studio which had been worn away in a nest of cobwebs and grime. Her eyes came to face the passionate expression upon Satan's tribute.

"Yuri, I've come to pay my respects," Shura muttered, shoving her hands into her coat pockets. "Rin and Yukio are good kids. Shirō raised them with good, tender hands. It took me a while to understand why you did this, why you tossed your life in the trash just to make sure they lived, but now I do. It's so surreal." Shura brushed her hand among the dusted countertop, bringing an outlived scent with it. "I kind of feel like a mother to them, or maybe I'm the big sister that's a bad influence."

Shura laughed lightheartedly before a thought struck her. "You know, every time I look at those kids, I always see your soul inside of them. Rin has your free spirit, and Yukio has your thrusting determination. But… I also see Satan inside of them, and that's terrifying. Yuri let me tell you," Shura's voice turned into a deep, throaty growl as she drew her new katana, one infused with a Yuki-Onna soul. It sang in her hands as she held the blade above the statues head. "That devil did curse you, and the curse carried through your children."

Shura brought the sword down with horrifying precision and strength, shattering the statue to little bits and pieces. Frost crept up over the dull, chunks of hardened clay, leaving intricate little patterns over their surface.

"But I will protect them with my life." Shura snarled, sheathed the katana into her belt, then left through the creaking door. As her boots rang out on the steps, she turned back to the workshop with a satisfied smirk. "And I'll be damned if I don't die for them next."


End file.
